


Carvings

by ddelusionall



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, JYJ (Band)
Genre: Breaking Up & Making Up, I wrote this before they broke up so it was even more painful, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Post-Lawsuit Era (DBSK), Reunions, Scars, Self-Harm, Song fic, Suicide Attempt, Yunho/female character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-19
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:54:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23896393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddelusionall/pseuds/ddelusionall
Summary: Yunho has finally figured out that he needs Yoochun more than Yoochun needs him. But what about the others?(Loosely based on the song "Need You Now" by Lady Antebellum)
Relationships: Jung Yunho (DBSK)/Park Yoochun
Kudos: 1





	1. Scratches

**Author's Note:**

> I am importing my stories from LiveJournal. The original fic can be found [here](http://be-ddelusionall.livejournal.com/).
> 
> I haven't read this story in a long time, so I may have missed some tags. Just let me know if I did.

“You promised not to call.”

“You told me you wouldn’t answer.”

“What do you want?”

“I need you.”

“How badly?”

“Does that matter?”

Yunho sighed. “Yes.”

“Not that badly. Not yet anyway.”

“Don’t threaten it, okay?”

“Why not? It’s the only reason why you ever come over anymore, and I want to see you.”

“Are you drunk? You’re only this snide when you’re drunk.”

“You only answer my calls when you’re drunk.”

Silence. And then a deep sigh. “Where are you?”

“My house.”

_Disconnect._

Soft skin caressed his shoulders as arms wrapped around his neck. Lips pressed against his cheek.

“Who was that?”

Yunho smiled. “No one special.”

“Hm, ‘cause it wasn’t me, huh?”

“Exactly.”

Yunho turned and met Soonya’s lips in a gentle kiss. She tasted like fruit and alcohol and lip gloss. She maneuvered around the chair and sat in Yunho’s lap.

“Let’s go up to bed,” she whispered.

He grinned, covering a pulse of unease. “Why? That couch is mighty jealous of your bed.”

She giggled. Yunho kissed harder, but it wasn’t her lips or her hands or her voice. It wasn’t her body that he pushed into. Her moans weren’t deep enough. His name falling from panting lips was too high.

And after, uncomfortable with her hair across his chest, her hand curled at his hip, a different memory assailed him. Of a hard body and muscles and quivering, nervous kisses.

He adjusted carefully, tucked Soonya into the couch with a blanket. He dressed, and with a minor pang of guilt, left. Only minor. He never stayed over at hers or any other girl’s house. It made things complicated.

His phone vibrated twice. He fished it out of his jeans.

< i need you now >

< i know > he replied.

He wasn’t drunk any more, he hadn’t been that drunk when he answered Yoochun’s call either. He headed to the subway, kicking himself all the way, telling himself that he should have gone straight there.

It’d only been four years since the delusion that was DBSK had finally wisped away like autumn leaves on the wind. Someone might recognize him, want his autograph. How many albums could they have released in four years?  
Four years since life fell apart. Three years since it came back together.

“I need you,” Yoochun had said.

Two years since the loosely tied knots of their life untangled. Two years when Yunho couldn’t handle it anymore. Two years of having to handle it anyway.

But less than a year knowing that life without Yoochun was empty. No matter what Yoochun did to himself.

_I need you, too. I’ll always need you._

But he’d never say it.

Yoochun’s door was unlocked. Yunho stepped in and sighed. Familiar. Same couch, same coffee table.

Different half-empty bottle clutched in white, shaking fingers.

Same knife, open, blade throwing light from the single lamp lit.

Yoochun wore sweats, the skin of his upper body shone in the dim light. His long hair plastered against his cheeks. A single strip of red stretched from his wrist to his elbow on his left arm. Blood barely oozed from it. Yunho, from experience, knew that it wasn’t deep.

“I had been looking at that thing for six hours,” Yoochun said, voice rough. He took another swig from the bottle.

“Looking is good.”

He cracked open an eye and did a full body scan of Yunho. “You is good looking.”

Yunho covered the distance between them, pried the bottle from Yoochun’s fingers and then took a swallow of it. The alcohol burned down his throat. Yoochun had drank half of this bottle? And some beer. Soju.

“What did I tell you about drinking alone?”

“What did I tell you about not being able to live without you?”

Yunho sighed. “You’re drunk.”

“You’re not anymore.”

“No.”

Yoochun’s face scrunched in thought. “Then why are you here?”

“You need me.”

“Forever.”

Yunho straddled Yoochun’s lap.

Yoochun’s lip curled. “I can smell her on you, by the way.”

“Her?”

“Whatever bitch you were fucking after you answered your phone. I don’t care which one.”

“Come shower with me. Scrub that scent away, mark me with yours.”

“Tempting.”

“Isn’t that why I’m here?”

With surprising strength for someone as drunk as he, Yoochun grabbed Yunho’s hips and lifted him away and onto the couch. “You’re here because I need you, not because you need me. You’ve made it perfectly clear again and again that you don’t need me in any way, shape or form.”

Yunho clutched at him, wrapped a leg around his body and held him there. “Make me need you,” he whispered.

Yoochun shivered. His head fell forward, hair covering his face.

Yunho usually said _make me want you._

Yunho traced the scars up Yoochun’s wrist with his fingertips, not caring when his fingers slid through the blood of the fresh cut. Each scar was his fault. His doing. His responsibility. All Yoochun had done was love him. Given him a place where he didn’t mind staying over. Given him a place to put his heart.

“I love you,” Yunho said.

Yoochun scoffed. “Empty words coming from someone that smells like a cheap hooker.”

“Empty, but true.”

Yoochun bit his lip and looked away. Looked at Yunho’s fingers still following the interweaving scars. A shadow of a smile crossed his lips as he reached for the knife on the coffee table. Yunho didn’t stop him, breath short, wouldn’t stop him unless he got carried away. And then the handle of the knife was in his face.

“You do it.”

Yunho’s eyes went wide.

“You do it,” Yoochun repeated. “Right here.” He held out his unblemished right wrist.

“No,” Yunho said.

“The knife is sharp, but push as hard as you want.”

“No,” Yunho said and pushed Yoochun’s arm away.

With a feral grin, Yoochun crawled over Yunho’s body, putting hands on either side of his head. He dug his hips into Yunho’s body.

“You need me,” he said. “Say it.”

“I need you,” Yunho replied breathless.

“And only me, and there’s a reason this wrist is clean. It’s been waiting for you, to mark me and take me and have me and possess me. You need me now, but you’ve always had me. Do it.”

Yunho shook his head. “I’m not going to cause you pain.”

“You mean more pain. You don’t understand; it doesn’t hurt nearly as badly as knowing you were with some whore tonight. It doesn’t hurt as badly as knowing that you’re only here because you think I’m going to kill myself. It doesn’t hurt as badly as the day you left me.”

“I won’t cut you.”

“Why not? You did figuratively. With every ignored phone call and every look of pity and shame.”

Yunho ran his thumb over the scars again. “I know.”

Yoochun’s eyes narrowed. He pushed away, and then said, “Fine, I’ll do it, and you can watch.”

Yunho jumped after him, grabbed his wrist and said, “No.”

“Let me go or I’ll start struggling and one of us will get hurt. Maybe it will be you this time.”

Yunho winced. “Please, Chunnie, don’t. What do you want me to say? I was wrong, I was a coward, I was weak. You’re better than I ever was. God, yes, I need you, but not this you. I miss my smiling, singing, sexy boyfriend. I need to see you again.”

“I can’t be me without you.”

Yunho gasped and the first tear dropped down his cheek. “Please. I’m here and—” He stopped and couldn’t say it. Not again.

Yoochun finished it for him with a sneer. “You’re not going anywhere.”

Yunho’s mined swirled with memories. Naked bodies, twisted sheets, open smiles. And those words falling from his lips. And then again just a few months ago. Holding one naked body, shaking, crying, bleeding.

_I’m here and I’m not going anywhere._

Yoochun took advantage of Yunho’s momentary lapse and tossed him away again, this time, Yunho fell off the couch. Eyes wide, watching as the point of the knife disappeared into the unblemished wrist. Yoochun never looked away from his arm. Blood ran in a single rivulet around his wrist, pooled at the bottom and then dripped. Another joined it, and then another. It felt to Yunho that he watched that blood drip for hours.

With a frustrated cry, Yoochun flung the knife away. It clattered on the wood floor and slid to a stop at the wall.

Yoochun stared at his wrist. A small smile spread across his face. He shut his eyes and leaned against the couch.

Minutes ticked by. Counted from the split splat split splat of blood on wood. Too much, Yunho thought, and finally pulled his eyes away from the red wrist, from Yoochun bleeding to death.

“Damn you,” Yunho said. He pulled his shirt off and wrapped it around Yoochun’s wrist.

“You love me,” Yoochun said, voice breathy.

“I already said that, didn’t I?”

“You can’t get away from me.”

“Why would I want to?”

“Kiss me, Yunho.”

Excuses, protests and denials danced on his lips. His own need to feel them, chapped and rough, after so long without them won. He leaned forward, ghosted his lips against Yoochun’s.

Yoochun’s smile grew just a bit.

Yunho kissed that smile, and then broke it, forcing Yoochun’s lips apart. His grip on Yoochun’s wrist increased because if he touched anywhere else, things would get out of hand, and he had to make sure Yoochun was okay first. Yoochun’s other hand slid up his back and shoulders and tangled in his hair.

“Put me to bed,” Yoochun muttered.

Yunho smiled. He hadn’t been in Yoochun’s bedroom for months. Yunho tied the shirt around his wrist and then with only a little help from Yoochun scooped him into his arms and carried him down the hall. The usually pristine space was cluttered with clothes, empty bottles and take away cartons.

The clean piano and its organized desk still showed that Yoochun cared about something.

“Sing for me,” Yoochun said.

“What song?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

Yunho voice cracked on the first note, but he sang _Hug_. More whispered the words than sang them, as he laid Yoochun down and then cleared off the majority of the bed. Yoochun shifted until his head hit the pillow. Yunho turned off the light and crawled in next to him, and repeated the song again.

Later he would clean up the blood, clean up the house and dump all the alcohol down the sink. He’d put the knife away and make Yoochun a breakfast that he wouldn’t eat. They’d shower and kiss and make love and spend the day in each others arms.

But this time, this time, Yunho wouldn’t leave.

“I love you, Park Yoochun,” he whispered.

“You need me,” he corrected.

“That, too.”

After Yoochun fell asleep, Yunho watched the sky turn gray in the window. He checked Yoochun’s arm, carefully pulling the shirt away from the cuts. He made sure that Yoochun wouldn’t wake up, and then he rose and went to the bathroom for a wet towel and bandages that he had bought for this exact purpose.

Softly, he washed the dried blood away.

The world stopped, everything went white and fuzzy, and then refocused.

His name. Carved into Yoochun’s flesh.

“Pretty, isn’t it?”

Yunho met Yoochun’s eyes with difficulty. “You’re a crazy bastard.”

“I’m your crazy bastard.” And then he smiled, one that wasn’t fake that made his eyes shine. Yunho stared, in awe, and slowly crawled up to those lips.


	2. Stitches

One year later …

_Jung Yunho,_

_We are in the process of organizing a benefit concert for homeless children and those in need of medical care. It was pointed out to me that one of the members of DBSK was adopted, so we have decided that you should perform at this concert. Please contact our office as soon as possible._

_Sincerely,  
Lee Sooman_

Yunho read the e-mail again. And then again.

He wondered if the others received the same e-mail. He logged out of his account and into Yoochun’s. Nope. No e-mail. He went back to his.

“Chunnie!” he called.

Yoochun came into the room with a smile that made Yunho’s heartache. He’d almost missed out on a lifetime of those smiles. Yoochun wore jeans, slung low on his hips. A maroon sweater, sleeves pushed up. The scars on his arms contrasted sharply with his skin. Yunho still felt like he hadn’t done enough to make up for those.

Yoochun waved a hand in front of his face, and then kissed him. “What’s up?”

Yunho grabbed his hips and sat him in his lap, and then pointed to the computer screen. Automatically, Yunho’s fingers found the scars of the right wrist and traced his name over and over.

“What the …” Yoochun whispered.

“My thoughts exactly.”

Yoochun leaned away enough to meet his eyes. “Well?”

Yunho shrugged. “Don’t know. I guess I’ll call Junsu and see if he can get in contact with Jaejoong.”

“Don’t you have Jae’s number?”

Yunho looked away. Yes, he did. But he hadn’t called him for years. “Junsu’s closer to him.”

After a moment of silence, Yoochun smirked. “Well?”

Yunho sighed, but fished out his phone. He dialed Junsu’s number.

“Yunho hyung!” Junsu cried.

“Hey, Junsu.”

“How are you? Man, you haven’t called me for ages, and I’m sorry but I’ve just been so busy and is Yoochun doing alright? You guys still living together? You two are so lucky that you get to see each other all the time. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, Su. Hey, look. I received an e-mail from Lee Sooman. He wants Dong Bang Shin Ki to perform at a benefit concert.”

“Really? No way! That’s awesome.”

“You want to do it?”

“Are you kidding me? Of course, I do.”

“Can you call Jaejoong and tell him?”

“He probably already knows about it, but yeah, I will.”

“What about Changmin?”

Silence. “Well, that may be a problem.”

“What do you mean? We can’t perform without Changmin.”

“He’s in America.”

“Really? Doing what?”

“Just living. He decided to move about six months ago.”

“The e-mail says that the concert won’t be for another six months.”

“Maybe he can make it then. I have his e-mail. I’ll e-mail him right now.”

“Thanks, Su.” The conversation continued. Junsu talked about the newest show he was hosting, and about the songs he’d been composing. Then he asked about Yunho’s job as a part time dance instructor. Yunho hedged as much as he could when the conversation turned to Yoochun.

On his lap still, Yoochun frowned.

“Give me the phone,” he whispered.

Yunho sighed, but then said, “Yoochun’s right here if you want to talk to him.”

“Really? Put him on.”

Yunho handed the phone over and Yoochun’s smile morphed as he talked to Junsu for the first time in almost four years. Yunho watched himself trace the scars, not paying attention to the conversation. Yoochun lifted his wrist in invitation. Yunho grabbed it, brought it up to his mouth, and used his tongue to trace the design. Almost instantly he was hard. He wrapped an arm around Yoochun and pulled him closer. Yoochun’s eyes rolled back and he let out a tiny moan.

“No, I’m okay. A little sick,” Yoochun said in the phone.

Yunho scoffed; Yoochun called Yunho’s fascination with the scars _a little sick._

“Okay. Call us back soon.” Yoochun ended the call and flung the phone on the desk. He pulled Yunho’s mouth away from his arm and kissed him.

“Love you,” he said.

“Need you,” Yunho replied, and there on his desk chair showed Yoochun just how much he needed him.

_Four months later …_

Yunho paced in the conference room. Yoochun sat quietly in a chair. They’d been arguing all morning. First because Yoochun insisted on wearing jeans and a t-shirt. He bent to Yunho’s demand to wear a long sleeved one, and then promptly pushed the sleeves up.

“I’m not ashamed of them. Are you?” Yoochun challenged.

Yunho hadn’t replied, but that had been enough to make Yoochun’s eyes narrow.

“I don’t care if they all know I need you,” Yoochun said. And then because Yoochun was pissed, he had said, “It doesn’t matter anyway. It’s not like Jaejoong is going to care about us.”

Yunho had winced and gone into another room.

Jaejoong.

He was nervous about seeing Jaejoong. Yunho had dressed more professionally, in black slacks and a button up blue shirt, but knew it wasn’t going to be as nice as whatever Jaejoong decided to wear.

And then they couldn’t decide what to say about their relationship. Yoochun didn’t care who knew, but as always, Yunho was hesitant about disclosing it.

Yoochun sighed. “Yunnie, I’m sorry. I know you’re stressed out.” He stood up, stopped Yunho’s pacing and smiled. “Here, look.” He pushed the sleeves down on his shirt. Yunho shook his head, and Yoochun kissed him.

They jerked apart when the door clicked open.

“Yoochun!” Junsu cried and flung himself at him. Yoochun caught him and held him tightly as Junsu peppered his cheek with kisses. Yoochun laughed and then set him on his feet.

“I’ve missed you,” Yoochun said, giving him a proper hug.

“Missed you, too.”

There was a knock on the door, a special knock of different beats that Yunho never thought he’d hear again, and then the door opened and Changmin, looking fantastic in brown slacks and a white t-shirt, entered.

“Hello,” he said in English, and then he was hugging Yoochun and Junsu, while Junsu squealed a welcome.

Finally, Yoochun looked back at Yunho. “You going to come and hug us, or stand there like a jerk?”

Yunho smiled and joined the hug. They sat around and talked. Changmin told them about his life in New York City and Junsu talked about his musical career. Yoochun stayed relatively quiet, smiling, answering simple questions directed at him. He tugged on the shirt sleeves, but never pushed them up.

Yunho checked his watch.

Jaejoong was late.

“He had a radio show this morning,” Junsu said, after the umpteenth time Yunho looked at his watch.

“He could have called,” Yunho muttered.

Junsu smirked. “Yeah, right. He’s in the middle of concert promotions right now.”

Almost an hour after their scheduled meeting time, Jaejoong flowed into the room. He looked damn good in dark blue, pinstriped slacks, shoes shined. The sleeves of his crisp, white button down shirt were perfectly folded to his elbows. His hair was deep red, long, swooped across his forehead. His skin was still perfect. He slung a jacket on the back of a chair, and lifted sunglasses off his face.

Yunho and Jaejoong stared at each other. Yunho knew his face wasn’t as impassive and cold as Jaejoong’s. They’d been best friends for so long, but Yunho couldn’t see past the mask anymore.

The last time they talked, Jaejoong had hit him.

“Well,” he demanded. “Are we doing this or what?”

“Hello to you, too,” Changmin muttered.

“I don’t have time for hellos,” Jaejoong said.

Yoochun scoffed.

“Finally crawled out of the hole Yunho keeps you in,” Jae said.

Yoochun’s eyes narrowed, but when he opened his mouth, Yunho said, “It’s not worth it, Yoochun.”

Jaejoong smirked. “Do as Daddy says.”

Yunho balled his fists and said, “If you’re going to do nothing but put us down, then no, we’re not going to do this. Yoochun and I haven’t signed anything yet.”

Jaejoong waved a hand at him. “Whatever, Yunho. I was told that we were doing it, so we’re doing it. I’ll have someone call you about a schedule for rehearsals.”

He turned away and headed for the door.

Yunho scowled and hurled himself at Jaejoong’s back. He grabbed that white shirt, spun him around and shoved him up against the door. “Look, you bastard, you have no right to treat us this way. Yes, you’re still famous and you’re still selling records, but the rest of us have our lives, too.”

“Such wonderful lives, I bet,” Jaejoong said.

“You ditched us all, forced us apart in an act of selfish greed and then screwed even your two best friends over.”

“There is no us.”

“There is always us.”

“I don’t know what fantasy land you’re still living in, Yunho,” he said, “but the last time I checked, DBSK didn’t exist.”

“DBSK always exists,” Yunho said and let his fingers touch a spot on Jaejoong’s chest, the tattoo hidden by his shirt.

Jaejoong tried to push Yunho away, but Yunho slammed him back against the door.

“I’m not done talking yet. You abandoned us. Yes, it was mine and Changmin’s fault that we did not join the lawsuit against SM, but now I’m glad I didn’t. You screwed even Junsu and Yoochun over, started making your own singles and the three of you broke apart just as painfully as the five of us did. And some of us just didn’t take that well.”

“It’s not my fault I succeeded.”

“No, it’s not. And believe me when I say that all four of us are proud of you and happy for you. We all own every one of your CDs, and I can say that I’ve been to two of your concerts, but that still doesn’t change the fact that you you’re different than you were and—”

“You’re implying that you’re the same?”

Yunho shook his head. “No, but I never forgot what was important.”

Yoochun was going throw that lie in his face later, Yunho knew, but for now, it served its purpose.

“Out of the five of us, who do you think took it the hardest?” Yunho asked, lowering his voice.

“Took what the hardest?”

“Your betrayal.”

“That’s harsh.”

“That’s the truth. At least how we see it. Answer the question.”

Jaejoong didn’t say anything, but he looked over Yunho’s shoulder.

“You never called, you never texted, you never talked to him. Ever. It was like you took your soul mate and threw him off a cliff. Well, your four best friends. Changmin was able to crawl back up, and you threw Junsu a lifeline when you needed him. But what about Yoochun?”

“Yunho,” Yoochun said carefully.

“No, Yoochun, if he wants to do this, then he has to know, because there is no way that I’m going on stage with him and acting like I’m happy. I won’t lie to people, and that’s what we’d have to do. Smile and joke around and be DBSK again, for just a night. And I don’t want to do that. I want my friend back.”

“Not really your place to tell, though, now is it?” Yoochun said.

“Isn’t it? Come here.”

Yoochun sighed but rose and walked over to them. Yunho stepped away from Jaejoong. He expected the other man to bolt, but Jaejoong stayed put, eyes on Yoochun. Yunho grabbed Yoochun’s left arm and pushed the sleeve up. He held Yoochun’s hand and stretched his arm out.

“Do you have any idea what it’s like to get a phone call, and all you hear is a very soft help? Do you know what it’s like to have your stomach fall out of your body as you realize that he’s done it again? Tried again? And do you know what it’s like to rush over to his place only to find him half conscious in a pool of blood?

Jae’s eyes were wide, stuck to the scars on Yoochun’s arm.

“I can’t speak for Changmin or Junsu, but when I say that there is always us, this is what I mean. I don’t mean DBSK because pop groups come and go, but us, the five of us are forever, and no matter how much of a bastard you are, or continue to be, I want you to know that you’ll always be part of us. That no matter how low you fall or how hard life becomes, I will always, always, always be there.”

Yunho finally turned away from Jae, and wrapped his arms about Yoochun’s body, buried his face against his shoulder. It was always the other way around, always Yoochun who needed to be held. He felt, rather than saw, Yoochun pull the other sleeve up. Heard Jaejoong gasp, and then Yoochun’s arms were around him, leading him away, to a corner, where he pinned him to the wall. With a finger under his chin, Yoochun made him look at him.

“You’re so cute,” he said with a smile and then kissed him softly.

There was a collective gasp from the other three, but Yunho ignored them and melted into the kiss, opening his mouth for Yoochun’s questing tongue.

“Love you,” Yunho said.

Yoochun smiled widely at the switch in lines. “Need you,” he replied.

Yoochun was suddenly ripped from him, and then hugged tightly by Jaejoong. Yoochun stood for a moment, arms at his side, and then very slowly hugged him back. Jaejoong’s back was shaking like he was crying. The difference between them was startling. They had always been the same size, the same build, but now Yoochun was smaller, slimmer shoulders, thinner arms.

“So, hyung,” Changmin said, “how long have you and Yoochun been …”

“Together?” Yunho replied.

Changmin nodded.

“Five years, off and on. On now, and on forever, I hope.”

“Really?” Junsu said. “Five years?”

“Yeah. He needed me, but it took me a long time to realize how much I needed him.”

Jae let go of Yoochun, but took his hand. He traced the lines spelling Yunho’s name. “You’re not still …”

“No. Not for over a year.”

“Why did you … why …”

Yoochun smiled. Yunho asked him that question all the time. And Yoochun gave Jaejoong the same answer, “Because it hurt less.”

Jaejoong frowned, but then a sort of realization came to his eyes, and he hugged Yoochun again, kissed his forehead. He turned to Yunho. His eyes were red. “Forgive me?” he whispered.

“Always,” Yunho replied and Jae pulled him into their hug. After a moment, Junsu and Changmin joined.

“So do we do this?” Junsu asked.

All eyes went to Yunho, and then Jae actually smiled. “Still turning to you for the decisions.”

“It’s not up to me. It’s up to all of us.”

“I want to,” Junsu said.

“I think the fact that I flew back here is enough of an answer,” Changmin said.

Yunho looked at Yoochun. He knew by his eyes that he wanted to, and the smile widened and he nodded.

“Well?” Yunho said, turning eyes to Jaejoong.

Jae nodded. “Yeah.”

“Are you saying yes because of the publicity, or because you really want to?”

“I really want to,” he said.

“Then let’s do it,” Yunho said.

All four of them felt Jaejoong’s phone vibrate. “Fuck,” he muttered and pulled away from the group hug.

“What?” he demanded into the phone. “I’m fully aware of that, thank you … no … because I’m not … look, something way more important came up and I’m cancelling all of my meetings today … Fine, don’t cancel them, but I’m not showing up. … Don’t care. Call me if someone is dying.”

He disconnected and looked back to the others. “Dinner?” he said. “My treat.”

“Trying to buy our love back?” Yunho asked with a smile.

Jae shrugged. “I’m sure that I missed out on paying for a lot of my share of dinners for you four in the last six years.”

“Dinner it is, then,” Junsu said and headed for the door. Changmin followed. Yoochun squeezed Yunho’s hand, and then let go. He went to Changmin, and to all of their surprise, Changmin held his hand and kissed his cheek.

Yunho smiled.

“Yunho,” Jae started, but then stopped and Yunho shook his head.

“Don’t, Jae. We have plenty of time to talk of uncomfortable things, right?”

“Right, but well, Yoochun, he’s doing okay?”

“Yeah, he’s alright. He’s still writing music.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and he’s still as good as he was before. Maybe you can come over and he’ll play for you.”

“I’d like that.”

Jae held out his hand. Yunho looked at it, back at Jae’s eyes, and then took it. They followed the other three out the door.


End file.
